“A Dios Momo” by Leonardo Ricagni: A Tribute to Forgotten Children
By Alejandro De La Cruz

The distractions this great city of Los Angeles creates can impose upon the senses, (with its’ bright lights, glamour, and history), an obscure reality about what may be going on beyond our side of the hemisphere. I believe film fests like AFI can help alleviate that blindness surrounding Los Angeles with the fantastic imports it unleashes upon us. Yet, it takes a film like “A Dios Momo” to illuminate a fragment of the harsh realities that are experienced abroad; while supplying a momentary lapse within our proud individualism, and bring fortunate folk like you, reader, and I, face to face with the harsh choices youth around the world encounter. Simultaneously, it takes a director like Leonardo Ricagni to have the passion to make such a film.

“A Dios Momo” is the second major film by writer/director Leonardo Ricagni (see www.imdb.com). Ricagni attacks the redundancy of poverty, while intertwining the alleviating qualities of the Carnival culture and a youth’s imagination; propelling a young boy named “Obdulio” to learn how to read and write. Inspired by his commissioning requests from UNICEF (see www.unicef.org); Ricagni attempts to unveil the strenuous lives of children living in poverty and the struggle they face to elevate from their crisis.

The story centers on “Obdulio’s” resistance to education. At age eleven, the boy understands that he must sacrifice all he can to support his elder grandmother and adolescent sisters. A paperboy in the city, “Obdulio’s” life revolves around early morning encounters with his boss “Armenio”, mixed with confrontations in the city, and seashore gatherings at sunset to watch a freightliner pass on by with his childhood friend. However, it takes an encounter with “The Kiteman”, a “maestro” of the Murgas, to enchant the boy and convince him that the power to understand the meaning behind words can be the most inspiring thing on earth. It will elevate the boy to a world he has never known. A beautiful relationship develops and the young boy proceeds to envision a world juxtaposed by the cruel reality around him and the surreal atmosphere of Carnival in Uruguay.

My decision to attend the World Premiere of this film rested solely on the fact that I read an earlier review that saluted the film as a “nod to Fellini”. However, telling my friend Veronica that I would hold no expectations, I anxiously sat in my seat awaiting what I knew would be a gratifying experience; and calmly composed myself, ( I am known, relatively by all, to become annoyingly excited about things).

I’d never been to a world premiere, thus the moments angst was heightened considerably. I felt the privilege held by those who identify with a cultural freshness; I once interpreted it as elitism, but now define it as a raw experience.

I felt like one of the “Insatiables”, as defined in Bertolucci’s “The Dreamers”; those that sit “closest to the screen…because [they] wanted to receive the images first; when they were still new, still fresh…before they’d been relayed back from row to row, spectator to spectator.” For a moments time I was to capture the snapshots of the films images and store them, house them, and experience what the world hadn’t seen yet.

I wasn’t too keen on the anticipation of the film, though the Hispanic contingent was notable to say the least. There was a broad spectrum of multicultural appeal within the theater, which suggests that Los Angeles’ vitality is always worth upholding. Though, the film’s vitality shuns the domestic gloss that is a “Hollywood picture.”

The film’s Uruguayan retrospective upheld the serene feeling of nostalgia that was completely evident in the theater. During one of the scenes, I caught a glimpse of the woman in front of me, wiping subtle tears that spread over her cheeks and illuminated her face. That shining face became a reflection of the Uruguayan landscape; a testament to the film’s national struggle; a symbol of the beauty hidden beneath poverty and isolation. This woman was weeping for her country and her country’s children.

The film pronounced the responsibility we have as humanity to uphold the most cherished quality we have as people: to one day alleviate the pain of forgotten children so we can truly indulge in the potential of our species. Whether or not that’s the message is irrelevant; it’s simply what I saw on screen.

This film is a delightful mixture of blatant truth, with a dose of optimism. It is a portrait of a landscape unknown to most Americans. It is a story consumed with imagination; a celebration of the human spirit; but ultimately, it is a declaration of undying hope.

Who am I to revel in the beauty of a film? Perceive me as merely the messenger. AFI Fest 2005 ends November 13th. Will you be there?

© Citoyen du Monde Inc. 2005